Almost Perfect
by Kireina-Ame
Summary: Their family could almost be considered perfect. And, for Rukia, that was perfect enough.


**Author's Note: **I promise to be brief. I just wanted everyone to know that I did this for the IchiRuki Children Contest on DeviantArt under the IchiRuki-Club. Check it out!

* * *

_**Almost Perfect**_

It had been two years. Honestly, that was plenty of time to prepare for this visit but Rukia still found herself nervous and cleaning the house from roof to ceiling to walls to floors to garden in anxious haste. She even went so far as to kick the playing children out of the house to play in the yard. They would never, of course, tell their mother to her face that she was acting crazy but they definitely gave her a look reminiscent of their father's as they did as they were told.

Speaking of whom, she could kick his ass right now for him not seeming the least bit concerned about preparing for company. He nonchalantly shrugged, told her it would be just like any other day, and made his way upstairs to the youngest's bedroom. If she thought he was aloof to decorum and tradition as a teenager, she would have had to slap herself in finding out it just got worse after he passed thirty years old. He was still not one to put on airs or go out of his way to try to impress anyone. Save his wife, obviously, as it should be. _Damn straight!_ Rukia thought to herself. But the least he could do now was support her in her obsessive need to have everything perfect!

It had been two years since her brother and best friend have visited them. Rebuilding the 6th division, and all of the Seireitei in general, took the majority of their time. It would be another few decades still before all lost shinigami were replaced with well trained and experienced personnel. So with their visits being few and far between it meant the world to Rukia to have them here for not one, not two, but three days! A whole weekend! And, damn it all, their beautiful, _almost_ _perfect_ life was going to blow her brother's socks off! Metaphorically, of course. He was much too dignified for that.

And if that failed, she'd just get her youngest to give him the sad, puppy eyes of doom. They worked on just about everyone else, after all.

"Mama?" One of her sons called out to her from the front door, afraid to cross the threshold and meet the fury of a mother disobeyed. Having finished cleaning up after her cooking preparation, Rukia threw the cleaning clothe she had been using into a nearby hamper, using her foot to slide it into the laundry room adjoining the kitchen, and closed the door. _Out of sight, out of mind. _Scanning the rest of the kitchen with violet-indigo eyes before nodding her head in satisfaction.

"Yes, honey?" Rukia rinsed her hands quickly in the sink, drying them on the half-apron she wore over her teal, knee-length sundress before removing it to hang on a hook on the wall before making her way to the front door, spotting her oldest son's head poking in. She couldn't hold back the smirk of amusement at his determination to always follow the rules. He was definitely the most well-behaved of her brood. His lightly mused black hair falling right above his piercing blue eyes, he definitely received most of his coloring from his mother. The rest of his features, however, were all his father. She knew, even though he was only seven years old, that he'd be quite the idol after puberty.

He shuffled at the door. She could almost read it in his eyes that he knew he might be yelled at for holding the door open but that stepping inside until she 'released' her previous orders would spell certain doom. "Oji-sama and Renji-san are here," he started, his tension easing at the smile forming on his mother's face. He had been familiar with both of the men from visits years prior as well as photos and stories from his parents, so thankfully he didn't go into 'older brother, protective' mode. "And Haru's already picking a fight…," her son trailed off, knowing that might ruin the mood the first part started.

Rukia let out a sigh, steeled herself into what her husband called her 'mom-look', and made for the front door at a quicker pace. "Thank you, Mamoru. Let's go stop your brother."

Despite being ridiculously close in age to Mamoru, her second born son was nothing like her first. (Rukia mused that it could be due to the fact that she was beyond infuriated when she found out mere months after giving birth to her first that she was already pregnant again. She had threatened a very, well, _sensitive_ part of her husband for that.) But Haru, that second and unexpected child, had energy that went on for days, to the point that Rukia suspected that if it could be bottled they would have won the war against Aizen in a matter of minutes. Even Yoruichi's flash-step would have looked like a greying old timer taking a leisurely stroll in the park. And he wasn't exactly a trouble-maker, per se, but trouble _did_ seem to always find _him_. He, without argument, had the most in common with his father. That was also probably why he was picking a fight in the front yard with two grown men.

Stepping out of her home, her oldest son just behind her, she saw that Haru was indeed trying to fight with Renji. Her brother looked none too amused at such unbecoming behavior but Renji was laughing his head off as he held the six year old out in front of him by his ankles. The protective streak being a mother caused inside of Rukia would have lashed itself at her oldest friend if it weren't were the giggles coming from her other son's upside down face. The short, choppy dark orange hair she was hoping would be clean and combed for her company now standing on end and looked to even have a bit of dirt caked in the strands. But his chocolate brown eyes, a few shades darker than Ichigo's, held enough mirth just to bring another sigh from her chest rather than a scolding.

"Do you normally make a habit of abusing your friends' children when visiting their home, Renji?" Rukia smirked and only just barely held back a snort of triumph to see the redhead's eyes snap up to her in shock. Her son was carefully righted before being set on the ground.

"Ru-rukia! I – no! I mean… Uh, hi?" Renji scratched his cheek in nervousness, his other hand shoving into the loose jeans donned by his gigai. Thankfully he was much more appropriately dressed than what he used to wear in a gigai – a plain black t-shirt underneath a black denim jacket and, of course, a dark blue bandana tied around his head to cover the majority of his visible tattoos. Nary a tie-dye in sight, thank god.

"Again! Do it again!" Haru, never one to wait for permission, was already climbing up Renji's leg in persistence.

"Haru," Rukia's soft alto called out to him. There were no raised volumes or pitches but the child knew to stop immediately in his tracks and look over at her. "You can play more later. Go upstairs and clean your hair and face for dinner."

"But, Mama -!" He had started to argue and then snapped his mouth shut, seeing his mother raise one of her eyebrows at his outburst. "Yes, Mama." He jogged up to the front door and threw a _very Ichigo_ grin over his shoulder at the guests once more before doing as he was told.

"Rukia, look you well." Her brother stepped around his lieutenant, who was wiping dirt from his pants from the child that used him as a personal climbing tree. The noble's grey slacks, white oxford, and leather blazer were untouched by the dirt-wielding child. She knew Byakuya well enough to know that his statement meant that it was good to see her. But she also knew that, yes, she _did_ look well. Though she had donned a gigai more than a decade ago and had long since bonded her soul to it, she did not look her human age of 30 years old at all. Then again, even her husband didn't quite look to be his age either. Good genes, she supposed. She smiled an honest, open smile and bowed deeply to her family.

"As do you, Nii-sama." She even received an easy, albeit small, smile in return. Not only had their relationship started improving the day Ichigo saved her from her execution but becoming an uncle had really softened him up. Though many would argue that there wasn't any change in the captain, those close to him knew the truth of it. She had only wished that her older sister had been in better health to provide him with a child before her passing with what her children seemed to do for his spirit. But one could never tell what the future would hold so she would hold onto some hope. "I hope the division will be in good hands with my taking both their captain and lieutenant from them for the weekend."

"Actually, they're getting the weekend off. All except the ones assigned to the Living Realm and on patrol get a break. But trust me, they needed it." Renji grinned in pride, either not noticing or ignoring the glance his captain gave him for interrupting.

"From you, you mean?" Rukia smirked right back at him.

"Hey! Don't start insulting your guests!" Her friend had begun his tantrum until he noticed her older son was still present, half-hiding behind Rukia. "You don't want your kids to pick up bad habits, right?"

"Oh, Mamoru?" Rukia's smile softened as she tugged him out from behind her to place both of her hands on his shoulders, facing him to his extended family. "He's my angel. Besides, I have no bad habits. Right, honey?"

Catching on to his mom's joke he simply smiled and nodded up to his makeshift uncle. "Of course, Mom." She allowed herself to caress his locks with a sentimental smile on her lips just for a brief moment. He insisted on seeming so much older than he was. He was mature in ways even Ichigo hadn't yet mastered. What made her heart soften at him growing up so fast was that, in private, he would still call her Mama. She dreaded the day even that would stop. "Mamoru, do you remember Renji and your Oji-sama?"

"Hai," he lied. He may not have much of a memory of his uncles visiting last time, he was only five years old after all, but he did remember all of those stories his mom told him. Taking his cue, he stepped from his mother and bowed deeply. "Welcome, Oji-sama, Renji-san."

"Thank you, Mamoru," Byakuya praised, in his own way, nodding back to his nephew. "I have been told that you are at the head of your kendo class."

Ichigo had insisted that each of his children, when they were old enough, would be put into a martial arts class. With the personality that Mamoru exhibited early on, they had put him in kendo. They knew he would have great patience and respect for the sword. They also knew his younger brother could not be trusted with a wooden one, _hell_ even a foam one was dangerous in that child's hands, so they put Haru instead into karate. It also helped to keep the sibling rivalry to a minimum.

The child fidgeted and bit his lip. "I'm all right, Oji-sama."

"He won last semester's award for his kata, Nii-sama." The proud mother beamed and then leaned down to whisper to her son, not really trying to be private. "How about you show him the picture and plaque you were given?"

Nodding but still shy, Mamoru made his way into the house in a more dignified way than Haru had minutes previously. Rukia waited until he crossed the threshold to go find the award sitting on his dresser before beckoning her guests to follow her inside.

"They're growing up so fast," Renji breathed out for all of them.

"Too fast," the petite woman agreed in wistfulness before turning back to the men with a grin. "I hope you're both hungry. I'm borrowing one of Yuzu's old recipes for udon to go with the grilled fish."

* * *

Entering the home, Rukia glanced back to her brother. She knew every time he visited, he was assessing her home and inspecting the lifestyle that the former _ryoka_ had provided to his _imouto_. He still wasn't quite out of the habit of watching Ichigo's every move and judging it by how devoted, safe, or honoring it was of Rukia. Biting her lip, the petite shinigami-on-hiatus just hoped that he could tell how much work she put into making everything perfect and how much pride she took in it. Their home was larger than the average home in Karakura, well furnished with quality items, and well cared for.

The most important part was that it was her _home_, not simply the place she lived. The sofa table in the living room was adorned with homemade crafts from her children from school, the refrigerator covered with aced tests, drawings, and a calendar of each child's activities, and nearly every wall had a photo. She had even talked the two men behind her into posing in one with her. She had explained that she wanted her children to see that she too had a family that they were a part of. They were a lucky bunch with the love of Kurosaki's and Kuchiki's (and Abarai's) alike. Maybe one day when they were older, they would get to meet her other friends that could only watch them grow in letters and pictures. She was sure that Ukitake-taicho would win all their hearts.

Swallowing her emotion and cursing herself for her growing mortal sentimentality, she smiled at Mamoru coming back down the steps with his plaque in hand.

"Will you sit with your Oji-sama and Renji in the living room while I check on Haru? I want to make sure he's not flooding the bathroom." Her son gave her a quiet nod and then made his way over to the couch, inviting his family to sit with him. She smiled adoringly at three of her males bonding and thought of her other loved ones upstairs. Remembering that one of them was currently left unattended, she quickly jogged up the stairs in search of her mischievous one.

* * *

Rukia almost fearfully opened up the bathroom door, relieved to notice that she didn't immediately step into a puddle of water. It would not be the first time that Haru accidentally clogged the floor drain and flooded the bathroom. But she found her relief a bit premature when she looked up to find that her son was instead sitting on the plastic shower stool, completely dressed, and soaked through to his skin in his attempts to wash the dirt from his hair.

"Haru, honey, you're completely drenched!" Only partially closing the washroom door, she rushed to his side to take the shower nozzle from his hand and cut the flow of water.

"Am I clean, Mama?" Haru innocently tilted his head for his mother to inspect his hair. And no, he wasn't. His already messy spikes were now tangled about the remaining debris in a sloppy, wet mess. And now the dirt had turned to mud and required a bit more thorough washing. But the young mother just couldn't bring herself to reprimand him. He did at least try. And the hopeful tone in his little voice and the need for approval in his dark brown irises were downright heart-melting.

"No, not quite." Smiling, she started to tug her son's clothes off. "But you will be. Next time though, ask Daddy or me for help, ok?"

"Daddy is with Kemi-chan… And I wanted to do it myself!" Stopping his speech only long enough for his mother to lift the water-clogged t-shirt off his body, he grinned up at her with a grin directly inherited from his father. "I'm a big boy!"

Rukia had to laugh a bit at that as she lathered up her son's orange mane, just a few shades darker than his father's. She was feeling perpetually caught in the middle ground of being a proud mother watching her children grow up and need their parents less and less and mourning for the loss of her little babies turning, slowly, into adults. They would master new daily routines and show off with pride: "_Look it, Mama! Daddy, watch me!_" But then it would be near heartbreaking to hear "_No, I can do it by myself! I'm growed up!_" It was this dichotomy that had her and Ichigo discussing the possibility of just _one_ more child. Seriously, it was addicting. Though having to carry them inside her for nine months and deal with a host of annoying habits during that time had her hesitating.

"Mama, can we wash froggie? I left him in my pocket there." Lifting a soapy arm, the little boy pointed to his baggy red sweater that he had removed prior to Rukia finding him in the bathroom, soaked and slumped on the floor. It twitched as the poor creature, turned pet, searched for the exit of his new prison.

_Then again… Perhaps three is enough_.

* * *

After washing her son, putting him into clean clothes, and then trading her own dress for a dry pair of shorts and cap-sleeve t-shirt, she went in search of her guests with the troublemaker in toe.

"Make sure you control your center of gravity, Mamoru. Yeah, exactly like that." She could hear Renji from the stairs before she could see him. Turning into the room she could see both older men watching her son standing in his kata position with his bokutou**. She held onto her younger son's hand to prevent him from interrupting too soon. It was not often she saw her oldest let down his guard and bond with others. And this was not just anyone, this was his family so she could cry tears of relief to see them connecting.

Renji stood with Mamoru in front of the couch as her son moved quickly through his kata positions. Her older brother gave an approving nod from his position on the couch, a small cup of tea in hand he lowered from his mouth. "The sword is an extension of yourself. It is not an object you control, rather an expression of your control over yourself."

Her son looked to be in awe of his uncle's words, though she was very certain that he didn't really understand. What touched her heart as much as seeing her son share his favorite hobby was her older brother openly (for him) praising and encouraging.

"Mama…!" Her younger boy whined at her side, his body fidgeting and weighing down her arm as he began to collapse to the floor from sheer boredom standing still and quiet so long. They were very long, tortuous moments. Mere seconds was enough to thoroughly aggravate this little one. She laughed and released his hand and whispered into his ear before he disappeared. "Behave," then, with a loving touch on his orange head, released him to wreak new havoc.

In amusement, she watched him go back toward Renji, the child hardly forgetting the earlier roughhousing. "Fight me, Renji-san! Fight _me_! I'm in karate, you know!"

"Are you, now?" The man narrowed his eyes in silent laughter and he lifted the boy off the ground when the child slammed into his legs.

"Yeah, Mom and Dad don't trust him with a bokutou." The black-haired son smiled in jest to his younger brother.

Haru was unfazed and just grinned from his position hanging under Renji's left arm. "Ha! I just don't need a stick to win!"

"Why, you-!"

* * *

Letting her boys with Renji, who was beyond entertained, she smiled to her brother before going into the kitchen to check on dinner, knowing she would need to start the fish soon. Her brother followed her in and placed his empty tea cup on her counter.

"Your boys seem to be doing quite well, Rukia. Are you?" _Are you still happy?_ is what he meant. He worried often about her decision but now it seemed softer, in a way. His voice wasn't as monotone, sharp, or cold with family as it still tends to be with the clan or with his squad.

"I am doing wonderfully, Nii-sama. Thank you." Picking up the empty cup to wash out, "Did Mamoru get tea for you?"

"He did. He is ahead of his age." And there it was – another compliment of one of her children and of her parenting. He may not be the older brother Ichigo is, or expects, but he is her family and she is thrilled with her blessings and that includes him.

"Yes, he is. I am proud of all of them." The dark-haired woman smiled brightly at her steel-eyed brother. "When Ichigo manages to wake Akemi up and get her ready, I can't wait for you to meet her." The last time they saw her and Ichigo's only daughter was after her first birthday. She caught the small smile on her brother's face and noticed he had opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by a child's yell from the living room where her sons were trying to taken Renji down.

"Dad! Dad! Quick!" Mamoru yelled with mirth evident in his tone.

"Help me, Daddy! Get him!" Haru was laughing his little head off.

"You better not break anything. You too, Renji!" Ichigo's voice scolded all three of them.

"Hey!" said shinigami protested being lumped in with the youngsters.

Rukia and Byakuya stepped out of the kitchen together to see the boys and Renji roughhousing on the living room. The lieutenant just started to stand up with the weight of the older of the boys weighing down his neck and shoulders as he hung on his back. Haru rammed his head into Renji's gut and was then lifted from the floor and held out by his ankles once again in retaliation. Haru was loving every second of it and began laughing once more.

Ichigo stood close by at the base of the staircase with his 3 year old daughter held tight to his chest. Akemi had her face pressed securely into her father's neck, her arms wrapped tightly around, and her shoulder length, dark auburn hair obscuring what little of her head would have been visible. She either did not want to meet the guests or she was protesting being awake. Rukia figured both.

"Is she awake?" Rukia asked after rolling her eyes at the boys and smiling over to her husband.

"Reluctantly," Ichigo replied, his scowl turning into a smile, lightly ruffling the toddler's naturally smooth locks that still held the little curls at the end reminiscent of her hair as a baby. Despite the color being a bit different, it reminded Ichigo much of Rukia's hair – thick, smooth, and always seemed to fall in just the right way with minimal effort. At her father's tousling of her hair, the daughter made a disapproving groan but had yet to budge. The less-than-thrilled noise was a humorous foil to the cheery, pink summer dress the tiny girl was wrapped in.

"Don't you want to meet our guests?" She gave a shake of her little head but no sign of her face emerging. Ichigo could have snorted in amusement. "But they really want to meet you." Another shake.

And they really did. Renji had put the boys down on the ground, much to the displeasure of Haru who hated when his baby sister took his attention, and even Byakuya had an stepped near to meet a more cognizant niece. It was just as exhilarating to both shinigami men to get to know the personalities of Rukia's (and Ichigo's, as an afterthought for Byakuya) children as it was to be at their birth.

Rukia walked up to run her fingers through her daughter's hair, smoothing it back into a manageable and pretty appearance. "They've met you before, Akemi-chan. It was a long time ago." The child didn't twitch this time. She had her attention. "They are your family from far away and have heard all about you."

Even though the child made another sleepy groan, Rukia knew her curiosity was piqued when her head made a tiny fractional move to peek a single eye at her mother, not revealing any trace of her visage to the other men in the room.

"Is she normally shy?" Renji asked, his hands instinctively lifting Haru off the ground by his upper arms when the child kept tugging and kicking his legs to play.

"She's not shy," the orange haired father and husband laughed. "She's just antisocial."

"Ichigo!" Rukia managed to reach around her daughter to smack her partner on his orange head, earning her a scowl as he rubbed the spot. "She's just wary of new people. Why do you call her antisocial?"

"She's a mini-you, Midget. Right, Munchkin?" He poked his daughter's side as she nodded at merely being compared to her mother.

"Are you calling ME antisocial?" Rukia glared daggers at him, the fire of her younger years back in full force with their casual bickering.

"Well, yeah – OW!" He was just asking for that stomp to his nearest foot. His light hop off that foot to distance it from the weapon that was his wife, his daughter giggled a bit. His pain was forgotten as he smiled down at her face that lifted off his shoulder to gaze at the guests.

Renji was particularly taken aback. What looked back at them really was the face of his childhood friend as he hasn't seen it in, well, _many_ years. Her hair may be a different shade and her eyes a lighter tone of her mother's violet but that petite nose, pouting mouth, large eyes, and delicate brow were all Rukia.

Byakuya recovered first and nodded at his niece, careful to not scare her into hiding once more. "Good morning, Akemi," he greeted with soft eyes. As small of a gesture as it was for Rukia, she was thrilled that her brother would welcome her daughter from her nap, knowing it was late afternoon instead of the morning. Byakuya was a rather literal person so this was probably as whimsical as he was going to get.

She was wrong.

Her daughter, in a shock to both her parents, reached her arms out to her uncle for him to take her. He paused for a moment, as if considering what the child wanted, then Byakuya did just that. He gently took the small child into his arms and held her up on one arm and held her back with the other against him.

If she didn't already know the person, it was highly unlikely she would let them touch her, let alone hold her! But there she was, inspecting her uncle's face silently, almost as if searching for something or reading his thoughts. Her brow was scrunch up for a moment then it would relax. Then her mouth would turn down in concentration, just like her mother's, and then release. It felt like minutes went by as he Byakuya stood there, holding the tiny girl to his chest, grey eyes meeting lavender in a most unique staring contest. Then her little hands came up from where they rested on his chest balancing her, as she placed them on his cheeks. The shinigami captain was not sure what to make of this at all and found himself without words to question it. Instead, he waited. Her parents held their breath, wondering what crazy or embarrassing thing was about to happen.

"You're pretty," were Akemi's first words to her uncle, giving birth a light dusting of pink on the noble's cheeks as his executive officer chuckled behind him. Ichigo's jaw hit the floor as Rukia grinned like the cat that ate the canary. Her husband might be feeling like his daughter just sold out to the enemy but she was more than elated.

"Mommy, Ji-sama has pretty hair." She barely took her eyes off Byakuya to glance at her mother and then back to the man who held her, tilting her head adorably to the side.

Before Rukia could find the words through her giggling to respond, her brother did it for her. "Of course, Akemi-chan. Kuchiki's take pride in their grooming." Though she was far too young to understand that he just made a joke, the adults did. Renji was sputtering he was laughing so hard, Ichigo went straight from stage-1 shock to a comatose state, and Rukia's face lit up like a Christmas tree. Her family was _perfect_ and this weekend was going to be most amazing visit ever!

She barely cared when Haru managed to accidentally fling the fish off his plate and into the kitchen wall in an attempt to cut it by himself. She didn't even flinch when Mamoru locked his brother outside the house when he found out that Haru colored on his bokutou after forgetting to put it away and instead leaving it out in the living room. And she was only a tiny bit embarrassed when Akemi asked if she could go over to visit her uncles next time instead of her grandpa when "Mommy and Daddy need private time".

No, it was absolutely perfect.

**The End**

_**(Or is it?)**_

**Vocabulary/Names:**

Mamoru – Protector

Haru – Sun/sunlight

Akemi – Bright and beautiful

Ji-sama, oji-san, etc. – Uncle, varying levels of formality

Bokutou – also known as 'bokken', it is the wooden sword used in training in Kendo.


End file.
